Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

But still, it was there.


That strange, slow burn.

The comfort of each other’s presence had grown so naturally, so gently, that neither of them could say exactly when it happened.

But it had. Like how one morning, you realize a plant you never noticed had bloomed right under your window.

Ravi began calling her “Priya Didi” more often.

Sometimes with warmth, sometimes with restraint, sometimes just to remind himself.

And slowly, she stopped correcting him.

At first, the word had amused her, made her laugh with mock irritation.

But over time, it had settled around her like a shawl, both comforting and protective.

When he said it, there was no mischief in his tone. 

Just a kind of reverence.

And when she heard it, something in her softened, as if being someone’s ‘Didi’ kept her from being anything else.


Amit remained busy, as always, work trips, late hours, tired evenings.

He trusted Ravi. He trusted her. And that was the most dangerous part of it all.


Because this story wasn’t about betrayal.

Not yet.

It was about the stories we tell ourselves to feel innocent.

That nothing is happening.

That it’s just company.

Just comfort.

Just… someone who listens.

But even the deepest oceans begin with a drop.

And in this apartment, in the soft silences between tea and dinner, those first drops had already fallen.





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